


Running is a Victory

by kazhan



Series: MIKROKOSMOS [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Republic Commando Series - Karen Traviss, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Attempted Murder, Cuy'val Dar, Gen, Major Original Character(s), Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, Original Clone Characters, Original Mandalorian Characters - Freeform, POV Original Character, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Serious Injuries, Trauma, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:28:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25573588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kazhan/pseuds/kazhan
Summary: Technically, their contract is over. They were meant to train the clones until the war started and they fulfilled their mission. Jax could go back to bounty hunting. But he doesn’t need to considering the amount of credits he and his father earned by training the clones. He’s lacking a purpose and that’s why he’s actually considering staying here.That is, until he learns Jango died on Geonosis and Boba is nowhere to be found.
Relationships: Original Mandalorian Character & Original Clone Characters
Series: MIKROKOSMOS [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1833538
Comments: 14
Kudos: 28





	1. The purpose

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there (❁´◡`❁)  
> This fic is set in the same universe as [Blue Lights](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25313686). You don't need to read the previous fic to understand this one (because Blue Lights is actually set after this fic chronologically but I thought introducing the series with canon characters would be better, ANYWAY) but I do mention characters from this fic in Blue Lights. 
> 
> This fic introduces the first batch of Original Characters who will play a major role in the MIKROKOSMOS series, so I hope you'll like them and enjoy this story!
> 
> I want to thank [nomathewise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrayBlueGreen/profile) for beta reading this fic. <3

Three ships land on the platform and the engines are still running when the doors open. Jax watches with his heart in his throat as dozens of clones barely out of armor and still covered in red sand and blood are pushed out of the ships on stretchers. Most of them are unconscious or sedated, but Jax quickly notices the ones who are still very much awake. They’re writhing on their stretchers, moaning in pain,  _ sobbing. _ He wants to look away, but he is rooted in place, unable to tear his gaze away from the stream of injured clones coming out of the ships. As soon as they are empty, the doors close and the ships take off so fast it only means one thing: there are more to come. 

The clones standing behind Jax and Garp immediately rush towards the injured men and the medics accompanying them to help them grab the stretchers and push them inside Tipoca City, safe from the rain and towards the medical ward.

They quickly pass them by and Jax notices the severed limbs, the head wounds bleeding profusely, the faces burnt so badly it’s impossible to recognize them, the gaping holes in their chest and abdomen. 

Most of them are troopers, but Jax recognizes a few Commander-yellow markings as the rain washes out the blood and grime. He also notices the familiar armor of the Commandos and he has to fight down the urge to run towards them and see if he knows them. 

Someone puts a hand on his shoulder, startling him, and Jax turns around to see that Garp is looking at him with a sorrowful expression. 

“Come on, there’s nothing you can do here.”

And that’s the thing, isn’t it? 

They trained them,  _ tortured _ them into becoming killing machines, gave them all the skills they would need to survive. And now, they are finally doing what they have been trained all their life to do. The war they’ve been bred to fight in has just begun, and there is nothing Jax can do for them anymore.

_ Don’t get attached_, he remembers his father telling him again and again. Of course, it had already been too late for that. 

The rain keeps pouring, washing off the injured clones’ armor and leaving a trail of red on the platform behind them. Jax grits his teeth and nods before turning his back on the sight to walk back inside. 

“So… when are you leaving?” he asks Harvin because he needs him to take his mind off of what they just witnessed. 

“As soon as they’re done fixing my ship, she didn’t quite appreciate being left to rot in a hangar for eight years,” Garp says with a sigh. “What about you? Have you figured out if you’re staying or not?” 

Technically, their contract is over. They were meant to train the clones until the war started and they fulfilled their mission. The money is sitting in their bank account and they’re all free to leave and return to the lives they had before coming to Kamino, or lead a brand new one. But the production of clones hasn’t stopped and depending on how long this war lasts, the Republic will probably order more troops. The  _ Cuy’val Dar _ have been given the offer to stay and keep working for the brand new Grand Army of the Republic. 

Jax doesn’t know what to do. It’s not like he has a family to go back to. His mother and older sister died when he was nine and for years, his father was all he had. But his  _ buir _ was gone now too. Has been for a little over a year, leaving Jax to finish training the men under his care. Garp is eager to leave, he has a wife and two kids who will probably beat the shit out of him for making them believe he was dead for eight years, but at least he has a good reason to refuse the Kaminoans’ offer. 

Jax could go back to bounty hunting. But he doesn’t  _ need _ to considering the amount of credits he and his father earned by training the clones. Jax just needs to be careful and he could spend the rest of his life without having to work anymore. He’s lacking a  _ purpose _ and that’s why he’s actually considering staying here. 

No matter how much he hates Kamino and the long-necks, staying here means he could teach more clones how to survive. 

But… is he really teaching them anything useful? According to what he just saw, Jax can’t help but think it’s all for nothing. No matter how skilled they are, most of them will die just because they weren’t lucky enough that day. 

“I don’t know,” he sighs. “I’m sick and tired of this place, but…”

“You feel like you’d be abandoning them if you left.”

Jax nods.  _ Don’t get attached_, his father had said. Yet, he still remembers him punching Priest in the face after he found out about his and Reau’s Battle Circles. He still doesn’t know how Jango manages to see them as nothing more than products and no matter how much he loves the man, that’s something he will always resent him for. Jax had  _ tried _ to stay detached, to only focus on training them and see them as nothing but  _ soldiers_. Hells, he had stood by his father’s side as they sent clones who didn’t look older than sixteen in the Killing House. He had watched them freeze in complete horror the first time they realized they were using  _ live ammunition_. 

_ They’re just meat-droids_, Reau often said with a shrug. 

Meat-droids who had nightmares five years old children shouldn’t have because of the Flash training. Meat-droids who laughed and cried with their brothers. Meat-droids who got injured, bled and  _ died_. 

Does he really want to be a part of this, still? It’s not like he could stop it from happening and he knows the Kaminoans will hire different trainers if they need to. Jax doesn’t have much choice; he can either pack his stuff, leave Kamino and forget the past eight years, or he can stay here and try to make a difference. 

His comlink beeps, interrupting his train of thoughts, and Jax taps on his vambrace to answer the call.

“Where are you?” 

He frowns at Zora’s anxious tone. “North entrance with Garp, why?”

“You two come to my quarters,” they say and immediately disconnect the call. Jax casts a confused glance towards Garp. The man shrugs and they both make their way towards the west wing. Soon enough, they’re standing in front of Zora’s room and Jax presses his palm against the control panel to open the door. The place is a mess, as always; filled with droid parts, circuits, datapads, and computers. Zora is standing in the middle of the living room, a datapad in their hand. They look up, their jaw clenched and a worried frown creasing their forehead. 

“What’s going on?” 

“You’re not going to like this,” they say cautiously and Jax braces himself for the bad news he knows is coming. 

“Jango is dead.”

The words hit him  _ hard_, pushing the air out of his lungs. Jango and Boba left without saying a word, three days ago. It’s not the first time it’s happened, Jango had always had a tendency to do that whenever a job came up, so Jax wasn’t too worried. Of course, he couldn’t help but wonder how weird the timing was, with the Jedi showing up a day after to claim their army, but that was it. 

“Wha--  _ how?_” he asks, his voice hoarse. “How do you even  _ know_?” 

Zora sighs and hands him their datapad. “Jango made sure Boba would survive if anything happened to him. They prepared for several scenarios and he asked for my help for some of them. This,” they say, pointing at the screen of the datapad to show a series of numbers, “is the code Boba is supposed to use if his father died, so I can transfer Jango’s savings to the kid’s account. You know as well as I do that Boba would never use it unless something did happen to Jango.” 

Jax wants to say that it doesn’t  _ prove _ anything, but he knows Boba. Zora is right, the kid would never have used the code unless Jango was indeed gone. 

“There’s more,” they say. “I’ve been able to track the signal. It came from Geonosis.” 

“What the  _ kriff _ were they doing on Geonosis?” asks Garp and that’s exactly what Jax wonders. Geonosis is where the karkin' war  _ started_, what was Jango doing there with  _ Boba?_

“I don’t know, but that’s the last location I got on the Slave I. And that’s all I know, Boba went into Ghost Mode.” 

Jax pales. “He kicked you out?” 

Zora nods. “And it’s fair to assume he’s not coming back to Kamino. Whatever happened out there… Boba is on the run.”

“And he’s alone,” Jax breathes out, his heart in his throat. 

Boba is alone, somewhere, after losing his  _ buir, _ and the last time they saw each other, Jax and him argued so badly the kid refused to speak to him until their departure. But Boba is  _aliit_ , just like Jango was and Jax has to fight back the urge to scream because he is  _ sick _ of watching the people around him die. But he can’t do that right now. He will have the time to mourn later; right now, Jax has a very good reason to refuse the Kaminoans’ offer and get off this karkin' planet. 

“I’m going to find him,” he says. 

Zora pinches their lips. “Jax’ika… he could be anywhere, the chances of you finding him are--”

“So I should just give up?” he snaps back. “He’s  _ ten. _ I don’t care how smart he is and how well Jango trained him, he’s just a kid and he just lost his  _ buir_, I can’t just-- sit here and do nothing!” 

Garp puts a hand on his shoulder. “We know. But you can’t just roam the whole galaxy looking for him. You need a place to start.” 

Jax deflates and sighs. “You’re right, I just-- I need to know what happened on Geonosis,” he says because that’s the only clue they have for now. “I need to know who he is running away from.”

“Jango being on Geonosis can’t be a coincidence, so I’m guessing it must have happened during the battle. The clones might know something,” Garp points out.

Zora hums thoughtfully. “I could slice into the GAR holonetwork, see if they already have any reports making mention of Jango.”

“And how long is that going to take?”

“Well, considering I helped them reinforce their security… a while,” they said smugly. 

“Then I’m going to the medical ward, one of the injured clones might know something.”

“It’s a stretch, but I know you’re not going to sit here and wait until I’m done,” Zora says. 

“I’ll come with you,” Garp sighs, and Jax gives him a grateful smile. 

They make their way out of Zora’s quarters and head towards the medical ward. Jax knows it’s probably pointless, the chances of finding a clone who knows anything about what happened to Jango are so low he shouldn’t even bother. But he  _ needs _ to do something. He needs to stay busy or he’ll start thinking about Jango and he can’t do that, not right now. Actually, Jax  _ never _ wants to think about it. That’s how he has always dealt with loss, after all. After his mother and  _ ori’vod_’s death, Jax had focused on training, on learning everything his father could teach him. His  _ buir _ had been more than happy to keep him busy with lessons and practice and Jax is pretty sure it had been his way of taking his own mind away from the pain of losing his wife and daughter. 

Not letting himself feel the death of his father had been even easier. With his  _ buir _ gone, Strike Company and the twenty-two Clone Commanders he was supposed to train had lost their Sergeant. Jax might not be the seasoned warrior Jango had looked for in the people he had hired to train the Commandos in the first place, but he had been trained by one of them and Jango himself. So Jax had taken over their training and between making sure they would be just as good as the other companies and taking care of Boba when Jango was gone, Jax had had more than enough to do to not think about his father.

So, no, he won’t sit still and think about Jango being  _ dead_. He won’t, because he doesn’t know how to do that and not completely lose his mind. It doesn’t matter if what he does is useless, it’s better than doing nothing. 

The influx of injured clones hasn’t stopped. Jax doesn’t know how the Kaminoans are going to deal with so many clones in need of medical assistance, because as far as he knows, they clearly don’t have enough supplies to take care of them all.

A lot of clones probably died on Geonosis, and more will die here. Jax was there when they taught them the triage system and he can only see three different colors on their armor. The yellow for those who are at least somewhat stable for now, the red that means they need immediate care or they will die, and the black marking that means nothing can be done for them.

The clones marked with yellow are left in the hallway while the ones with red markings are taken inside the medical ward. As for the clones marked with black, Jax can already see them being led towards the morgue where they probably won’t stay for long. If the Kaminoans can’t use them, they’ll just get rid of the bodies. 

There is a droid going through the rows of clones marked with yellow. He’s either administering them a painkiller strong enough to knock them out or making changes to their mark, labeling them with red or more black to signal their imminent death. 

Jax grits his teeth. The  _ Kaminiise _ won’t bother trying to save the men who are too injured and would require too many resources to heal. They don’t take chances, they only care about facts and numbers. If the calculations estimate a clone’s chances of survival to be too low, they’ll never try to go against it and turn the tide. They’re scientists, not gamblers, Nala Se told him the last time Jax tried to argue with her. 

Jax keeps walking until he reaches the doors to the medical ward. They hiss open when they approach and Jax is hit by the chaos that reigns here. Kamino is a calm and quiet place, with its white walls and the sterile smell permeating the hallways of Tipoca City. Even the terrible storms raging above them most of the year never manage to completely disturb the stillness of this place. Everything is slow, measured, controlled. 

Everything but the clones, of course. They grow up fast, learn fast and they will also die fast. They can be loud, too, but they’ve never reached this level of chaos before and Jax can see how badly equipped the Kaminoans are to deal with a mess like this one. 

They tend to plan for everything, so surely they must have known that a lot of injured clones would return from the battlefield. But knowledge isn’t everything and as far as Jax knows, the  _ Kaminiise  _ have never been at  _ war.  _ They’ve had to deal with the Great Flood that recovered their whole planet with oceans and forced them to handpick the people who would survive and live in the big elevated cities they had built, but the Kaminoans don’t know what it’s like to have to handle the fallout of war.

There is a limit to their genius but as always, they’re not the ones who will pay for it. 

A crashing sound echoes from one of the rooms on his right and Jax frowns. He shares a look with Garp, but the sound is quickly followed by a strangled gasp and they don’t hesitate before running towards the door. Jax is the first to get inside and he freezes when he sees a medical droid on the floor, visibly damaged. On the table in the middle of the room sits a clone. He is missing his left leg, cut right above the knee, and he has his hands wrapped around Nala Se’s throat, a mad look in his eyes as he squeezes, suffocating the Kaminoan who can only trash and choke. 

He’s still wearing a few pieces of armor, the much bigger and sturdier parts Republic Commandos were given. Another look at the clone’s face and Jax feels his heart skip a beat as he notices the familiar scar peeking from underneath the high collar of his blacks. Jax knows it’s shaped like a smile and would have killed the clone if he hadn’t been there to press his hands against the wound until one of his brothers showed up with a spray-on canister of plasti-coating. 

Garp has taken out his blaster and is aiming at Orar’s face, but Jax quickly stands between them. 

“ _ Pare_!” he exclaims because he knows that look. 

Orar isn’t really there, at the moment. He probably doesn’t even realize who he is about to kill. Their blasters aren’t equipped with a stun mode and Jax doesn’t have the time to look for a sedative. So he does the only thing he can do before the clone kills Nala Se: he runs towards the pair, slips behind Orar and wrap his right arm around his neck and locks it with his left behind his head. 

Jax squeezes  _ hard. _ The effect is almost immediate; Orar lets go of Nala Se, who collapses, unconscious, and tries to grab the arm wound up around his throat.

The clone groans and trashes, but he can’t move much with his missing limb and he is clearly exhausted. If he still had enough strength to overpower Nala Se, there is nothing he can do against Jax in his state. 

“Shhh Or’ika, I’ve got you,” Jax whispers against his ear. “ _ Udesii_, vod’ika, you’re safe here, _udesii._ ” 

No matter how much the clone struggles, Jax holds on and keeps whispering reassurance. Finally, Orar goes slack against him and Jax immediately lets go of him before slowly bringing the unconscious clone down until he is laying on the table. Garp is kneeling next to Nala Se and she suddenly lets a broken gasp out as she opens her eyes and tries to sit up. 

“Easy,” Garp tells her with a hand against her back. 

“That clone tried to  _ kill me_,” she rasps accusingly. 

“He’s injured and confused, he didn’t know it was you, doctor,” Jax says, his eyes never leaving Orar’s bruised face. 

“He’s  _ lost his mind_,” she hisses before standing up. “He’s  _ defective._”

“Doctor…” Garp starts.

“We cannot afford to keep unstable clones. If they cannot recognize friends from foes, then they are a liability. I have wasted enough time and resources on this defective product, I’m having it terminated,” she says coldly. 

Jax wants to scream. He wants to grab her neck and finish Orar’s job by snapping it in half. He could do it easily. The Kaminoans are tall creatures, but they’re weak. But then what? Orar would still be in trouble and Jax would have to run away from Kamino. Plus, no matter how much of a bitch Nala Se is, other injured clones will need her medical expertise. No, he can’t be impulsive. He has to  _ think. _

She won’t change her mind. Jax could plead and make promises, but Nala Se won’t budge from her decision. And maybe she’s right. Maybe that first battle broke Orar and the clone will never recover from it. He has already lost a leg and it can be replaced, Jax doesn’t doubt that the Republic would rather pay for the care and the prosthetic he will need than for a whole new clone. They will fix the physically damaged clones, but they won’t invest the time and resources needed to repair their damaged minds. 

It’s too much work and the results aren’t guaranteed. No matter what Jax says, Orar’s fate is sealed. 

Unless he gets him out of here. 

It’s not the first time the Kaminoans decide to  _ terminate _ a clone. But Jax hadn’t realized what was going to happen the first time and then, he had known better than to try anything. What could he have done? His father would have stopped him anyway. 

But he’s known Orar since the clone was two years old. He’s seen him and his brothers grow up, he has trained them alongside his  _ buir _ and he can’t just let Nala Se destroy him like he’s just a broken tool. He can’t do anything for the  _ vode _ who left Kamino, he can’t save them from going to fight and die in this war, but he can do something for Orar. 

“You’re right, doctor,” he sighs and ignores the startled look Garp sends his way. “You’ve wasted enough time on him, you should go help those who can be saved. Will you send another droid in? I’ll make sure it’s done.” 

Nala Se stares at him and for a second, he thinks she’s going to refuse. But she finally nods and quickly makes her way out of the room. As soon as the doors close, Jax lets a shaky breath out, his mind reeling.

“You’re going to do something stupid,” Garp states. Jax looks up and grins at him.

“Yes. And you’re going to help me.”

The older man sighs, but he doesn’t protest. Jax presses Zora’s comlink code on his vambrace and waits for them to pick up the call.

“You know, when I said  _ a while_, I didn’t mean ten minutes.”

“I know. I need you to do something else for me.”

“Okay, what is it?”

“I need you to slice a droid, probably mess with a few security cameras, list a clone as terminated, and help Garp smuggle him onboard the  _ Cuyan_.” 

“You--” they groan, then bark a laugh and Jax knows they won’t refuse. Zora Menhadir is physically unable to resist a challenge. “Will that be all?”

Jax grins. “Should be, yeah.”

* * *

**MANDO'A**

_Cuy'val Dar_ = "those who no longer exist"

buir = father

aliit = clan, family

ika = diminutive suffix, also added to a name as a very familiar or childhood form (here, Jax'ika, Or'ika).

ori'vod = big brother or big sister (vod being gender neutral)

Pare! = Wait!

Orar = Thunder

Udesii = Calm down

vode = brothers

Cuyan = Survivor


	2. Ret'urcye mhi

The plan is so simple it feels wrong to even call it a _plan._ It also has at least eighty percent chances of going wrong, but it’s not like they have much of a choice if they want to get Orar out of here. Jax knows he is being impulsive. A few minutes ago, all he cared about was finding information about Jango and beginning the search for Boba, but seeing the utter fear in Orar’s eyes while he was strangling Nala Se changed everything. He can’t leave Kamino knowing what will happen to the clone if he doesn’t do something. 

Plus, things have been working out pretty well so far. Jax threw a jamming bolt at the droid as soon as it entered the room and let Zora work their magic. Reprogramming the droid so it would listen to whatever they said only took them a minute and Jax immediately ordered it to give Orar a strong sedative. After that, he told the droid to pretend the clone was dead and go get rid of the body, but instead take it to the _Cuyan._

Garp and the droid left ten minutes ago with the sedated clone. Zora is following their progress through Tipoca City to make sure they don’t cross paths with someone who would start asking questions and slicing through every security camera they come across to erase their presence. It’s an easy job for Zora, so Jax is confident in their ability to pull this off successfully. 

Now, Jax just needs to prepare his departure. 

“Sergeant Kang, what can I do for you?” Taun We asks calmly when he enters her office. She gestures for him to sit down on the seat in front of her but Jax raises a hand, politely refusing. 

“I’m afraid I’m here to report bad news.”

The Prime Minister’s aide frowns. 

“I have reasons to believe Jango Fett died during his last mission.” After years of living amongst the Kaminoans, Jax became good at analyzing their micro-expressions. The long-necks aren’t emotive people, but the way her large eyes widen slightly shows how shocked she actually is. 

“Boba was with him, which means he is now alone and probably in danger. I’m here to tell you I cannot accept the Prime Minister’s offer to stay here and keep training more troops for the Republic.”

“I see,” Taun We says in a clipped tone. “You are leaving to find the boy?” 

Jax nods. “Boba is dear to me and with his father gone, I feel he is my responsibility to find and care for. I didn’t want to leave without telling you. I also felt like you needed to know about Jango.”

“Indeed. If the template is lost, it will be difficult for us to keep making more clones. How sure are you of the veracity of this information?”

“As sure as I can be without seeing his dead body. But I’m sure you will have confirmation soon.” 

“Alright. When are you leaving?”

“As soon as possible. I just need to empty my quarters and I have a few arrangements to make before I leave.” 

Taun We gracefully stands up from her seat. “Then I will send someone to help you pack your belongings. I bid you farewell, Mister Kang,” she says before bowing and Jax tries not to snort at how fast he went from _Sergeant_ to _Mister._

“Thank you,” he says, bowing slightly in turn before making his way out of her office.

Jax takes a deep breath. He has good reason to leave Kamino quickly, but he can’t look like he’s _running away_ , no matter how much he wants to be gone already. It’s not only about Boba now, he needs to put as much distance as possible between Orar and the _Kaminiise_. But it won’t help the clone if Jax gets caught because he is being careless. He just needs to grab some medical supplies for Orar to last until they reach their destination. Nala Se stabilized him before the clone attacked her, but Jax isn’t going to risk not having something to help him with the pain, or more sedatives to put him under if needed. He needs to go back to the medical ward and grab as much as he can without being caught. The place is so busy it shouldn’t be too hard, so Jax quickly makes his way towards the hospital wing. 

The hallway isn’t as crowded as it was before, but no one is paying attention to him. The clones wouldn’t ask him any questions anyway and the medical staff is too busy to even notice he is here. Jax slips inside a supply room and starts looking for what he can steal easily. 

“You’ll be in trouble if they catch you with that,” a voice says and Jax almost drops the box of sedatives he just grabbed. He whirls around, his heart beating frantically inside his chest and lets out a relieved sigh when he recognizes Mij’s stern face.

“ _Baar’ur_ ,” Jax salutes him respectfully. Mij rolls his eyes at him.

“I know what you’re doing,” the doctor says calmly. “And you’re not getting out of here with what you need without raising suspicion.” 

“They won’t notice a few missing syringes of bacta and sedatives,” Jax argues with a pout. The doctor glares at him.

“I’ve seen the clone, he’s going to need a lot more than that if you want him to survive. Where are you even taking him? He won’t make it if he doesn’t see a medic. Nala Se just stabilized him for a few hours.”

“I’m not telling you where we’re going. But he’ll get the care he needs, I promise.”

At least he hopes so. After all, it’s been eight years since he last saw a member of the Ael’ter Clan. He has no guarantee they’ll be willing to help. Jax can only hope Nash won’t have forgotten him entirely and won’t be too mad at him for letting him believe he was dead for so long. The old man could hold a grudge and Jax has no doubt it hasn’t changed. 

“Are you going to help? Or are you just here to tell me I’m going to get caught or let him die?” he asks with a frown. 

Mij arches a brow, clearly not impressed, but he sighs: “I’ll help. When are you leaving?”

“In half an hour or so. Thank you, _baar’ur_ ,” he says, bowing slightly.

The man groans. “Don’t thank me yet. I’ll find you in half an hour. Now get the kriff out of here.”

Jax knows better than to contradict the _baar’ur._ Mij Gilamar is one of the few _Cuy’val Dar_ he really trusts, alongside Zora and Garp. Even Skirata isn’t on that list and he had been… _friends_ with his _buir_ . Or something like that, Jax has never been able to figure out if they liked or hated each other. There was respect, understanding, for sure. But he knows he can trust Mij. It won’t be the first time the _baar’ur_ helps a clone escape Kamino, after all. 

There are two clones standing in front of his quarters when he gets there. They’re dressed in the red fatigues the cadets wear when they aren’t training and they look like they’re barely twenty years old. Jax can see them muttering angrily at each other and he can’t hear them, but he’s pretty sure it has something to do with the transportation crates piled right in front of the door. They probably aren’t too happy with the task they’ve been assigned with and Jax can’t really blame them. They abruptly stop arguing and stand at attention as soon as they notice him approaching.

“Sir!” the clone on the left exclaims, clearly nervous. “The transportation crates you requested, sir!”

“At ease, boys,” Jax tells them gently. The troopers aren’t used to interacting with the _Cuy’val Dar_ and it shows. Most of them have only been trained through Flash training and simulations, their only interactions being with their brothers and the Kaminoans. Jax opens the door to his quarters and makes a move to push the crates inside, but the clone who spoke first quickly slides behind them. 

“I’ll do it, sir,” he says, eager. Jax nods and gets out of the way. 

The other clone looks hesitant. Jax notices the dark and large bruise on the left side of his face and almost winces in sympathy. 

“Do you-- uh, require further assistance, sir?” the cadet asks. The Mandalorian nods and gestures for him to get inside. 

“What are your names, cadets?” he asks once the door closes.

“CT-21-0408, sir.” 

“CT-27-5555,” says the clone with the bruised face.

Right. “What do your brothers call you?” 

They exchange a look.

“Fives, sir,” the injured cadet finally says. “And we call him 08.”

08 scrunches up his nose at that and Jax can only agree. The clones trained by Jango and the _Cuy’val Dar_ quickly started having names, whether they were given by their trainers, their brothers, or because they chose one themselves. It’s easy to differentiate a clone trained by a Mandalorian from one trained by a Corellian member of the _Cuy’val Dar._ The accent usually is a dead give-away as clones are like sponges absorbing every little bit of knowledge they are given, but the names are also a very good indication of who trained them. 

But clones like Fives and 08 don’t share the same culture. Jax knows some of the Clone Commanders they trained started sharing what they learned from the _Cuy’val Dar_ with their brothers, but they haven’t been exposed much to the world outside of Kamino and their _vode_. A shortened version of their designation number is probably the closest thing to a name those boys have. 

“Alright 08, could you take care of emptying the armory?” he asks the clone, pointing at the door. “Fives, you’re coming with me.”

Jax takes him to the refresher room and opens one of the cabinets above the sink to retrieve a bacta spray. When he turns around to face Fives, the clone is looking at him with a curious frown. 

“Hold still,” he tells him and opens the spray before applying some on his cheek. Fives’ eyes widen and he starts a bit, surprised by the sudden cold sensation. 

“Uh,” he says, blinking rapidly. “You didn’t have to-- I mean, thank you, sir.” 

Jax chuckles softly. “It’s just a little bit of bacta, don’t worry about it.” 

He grabs the rest of the medical supplies and drops them inside the crate Fives brought, before moving on to the bedroom. The clone follows him and they quickly empty the closet. His father’s clothes are still here, Jax didn’t have the heart to get rid of them even though he’s been gone for more than a year. Some of them could probably fit Orar even though he is smaller than his father was, so he supposes he was right not to throw them away. As soon as the bedroom is clear of all his stuff, they return to the living room to find 08 pushing one of the crates out of the armory. 

“You can grab everything you find here and put it in a crate.”

They nod and start carefully packing all of his belongings. Jax makes his way towards the small attempt at building an altar his _buir_ did when they got here. At first, it was meant to honor his mother and sister, but Jax also used it to pay his respect to his father every night since he died. It’s not much, but his throat tightens when he sees the holos and makes a mental note of taking them out of the crate as soon as possible. 

“Um, sir?” one of the clones calls. 

“Yes?”

“How-- we heard a lot of wounded returned from Geonosis. Do you know… did we win?” 

Jax turns around to see that Fives is the one who asked the question. His brother is standing next to him with a frown on his face, almost glaring at him as if Fives wasn’t supposed to ask him such a thing. 

“The Republic took over Geonosis,” Jax says because he can’t really include himself in this and he’s not sure it can be considered a _win._ Not when so many clones gave their lives for a ball of dust. 

“Oh. That’s good!” Fives exclaims, but he still looks a bit on edge.

“How long until you guys are done with training?”

“Around six months,” 08 says, sounding a bit sullen. 

And oh, Jax gets it. They just realized they’re going to be stuck here for another six months while their older brothers bleed and die on the battlefield. Jax can imagine their frustration and how much they probably worry about the others. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll be out there fighting with your _vode_ in no time,” he promises with a smile.

“ _Vode?_ ” Fives frowns.

“It means _brothers_ in Mando’a.” 

08’s eyes light up at the mention of the language and Jax watches him intently, but the clone remains quiet.

“That’s the Prime’s native language, right?” Fives asks. 

“Yes,” _and it should be yours_ , Jax thinks but doesn’t say. He can hear Fives muttering the word with a bit of wonder on his face and feels his heart clench painfully at the thought of all the Troopers who have no idea where they really come from. They are _dar’manda_ , not because they lost their way and identity, but because it was stolen from them. Stolen by the Kaminiise, the Republic and by Jango, too. 

“Well, Jango was from Concord Dawn, they use the word _tate_ for brothers,” he starts explaining and he realizes he kriffed up the moment 08 frowns.

“ _Was_ , sir?” he asks and Fives’ eyes widen as he understands too.

“It’s not official,” Jax says because there is no point in denying it now. “But yeah.”

“Oh,” Fives breathes out. “Is that why you’re leaving, sir?”

“Yes,” he says and resumes packing because the last thing he wants right now is to think about Jango being dead. They finish in silence and Jax is left watching the empty quarters he lived in for eight years. He remembers being fifteen and excited to discover a new planet, the first time he saw a Kaminoan and how fascinated he had been by them. He remembers how quickly he grew bored with the constant rain and dark clouds hovering over Tipoca City.

He won’t miss Kamino, but he will miss the memories he made here. 

Jax grabs his helmet - his father’s, actually - he left on the table and puts it on. Fives and 08 are already out with the crates and he opens one of them to retrieve an old datapad. 

“I’ll handle it from here,” he says because the last thing he needs is for them to stumble upon the injured clone hidden aboard the _Cuyan._ He hands the datapad to 08, who looks up at him, confused.

“You didn’t ask, but I saw you were curious. You’ll find lessons on Mando’a and Mandalorian history in here.”

“S-sir, I can’t--”

“Come on 08, more reading? You can’t refuse,” Fives interrupts him with a smirk. 

His brother glares at him, his cheeks reddening slightly at the teasing. 

“I don’t think-- we’re not supposed to own anything,” he mutters.

“Then how about I just lend it to you?” Jax suggests, but 08 still doesn’t make a move to grab the datapad, so Fives just does it for him.

“Don’t start reciting the regs, 08. The Sergeant is just giving you extra training, right sir?” he asks cheekily before shoving the datapad against his brother’s chest. 08 doesn’t have much choice but to grab it and holds onto it with a groan. 

“Exactly,” Jax says with an amused smile.

“Thank you, sir,” 08 finally says.

Jax makes a gesture towards Fives and the clone hesitates, but he finally reaches out so he can grab his forearm firmly. The cadet blinks curiously, then does the same with a smile.

“ _Ret’urcye mhi_ , Fives,” he says sincerely, even though he knows he probably won’t see them ever again. He releases Fives to offer the same gesture to his brother. “08, you seem like the responsible one here, make sure you two stay out of trouble.” 

“Yes, sir!” he exclaims, ignoring Fives’ affronted look. They both salute him and Jax tries hard not to imagine them in white armor covered in red dust and blood. Instead, he pushes the piled crate containing his belongings and makes his way towards the hangar bay. The place is empty apart from a few droids still working on Garp’s ship and Jax feels his throat tighten at the sight of the _Cuyan_ standing next to it. The ship was his home for years before his father took the contract on Kamino and it will be weird to live here again without his _buir._

The side ramp is lowered so Jax gets inside the airlock and presses his palm against the control panel to open the door. He pushes the crates inside and leaves them by the door before making his way inside the living area. That’s where he finds Garp, sitting on the large angled couch, his eyes on a datapad. 

“I just finished running a full diagnostic, you’re good to go,” the man tells him before dropping the datapad on the couch. 

“Thank you.”

“Mij is here,” Garp says carefully. “And he brought an extra guest.”

Jax frowns. “Where are they?”

The older man points towards the sleeping quarters and Jax follows his indication. One of the sleeping quarters’ doors is open and he immediately notices Mij taking care of Orar who is still unconscious. There’s another clone sitting on the bunk opposite to Orar and he stands up as soon as he hears the sound of footsteps approaching, his eyes frantically searching around him, as if not seeing.

“It’s just me and Jax, Kad’ika,” Garp says softly and the clone immediately relaxes.

He looks like some kind of creature clawed at his face, leaving three scratches across his right eye, but it doesn’t look damaged. He has cuts and bruises everywhere and his right hand is missing, up to the elbow. 

“He’s one of mine,” Garp says, his voice wavering a bit. Jax nods, he remembers Kad'la. “He’s-- Mij says he’s blind.”

“And it’s not physical,” Mij adds before covering Orar with a blanket and turning around to face them. “I’ve run every test I could think of and there’s nothing that could explain it. So it’s psychological and we both know how the _Kaminiise_ deal with this kind of thing.”

Jax nods. “So you want me to take him too?” 

“I would, but--”

“Yeah, I know Garp.” His _riduur_ would probably kill him if he showed up with a stolen clone after eight years of letting her and their kids believe he was dead. And that’s if she doesn’t kill him just for showing up. 

“I have good reasons to believe this is only temporary blindness,” Mij says and Jax looks at Kad’la. The clone has lowered his head and is looking pale and stiff as they’ve been talking about him as if he wasn’t there. Jax feels a pang of guilt and approaches him slowly to make sure he knows he is coming before putting a hand on his shoulder. 

The Commander tenses, but he doesn’t move. 

“You should sit down, Commander. I’m not letting them get their hands on you,” he whispers softly.

The clone lets a shaky breath out and nods. He sits down on the bed and Garp settles next to him. 

“They’re both stable. Orar is in worse condition, but he should make it now. They still need medical care, both of them,” Mij says sternly. 

“I’ll make sure they get what they need, baar’ur. Thanks for your help.”

The doctor hums. “I have other patients to return to. _Ret’urcye mhi_ , kid.” 

“Thank you, sir,” the clone croaks out before Mij walks out of the room.

“ _K’oyacyi,_ Kad’la.”

And then he’s gone. 

“We’re leaving in ten,” Jax tells Garp, because they really can’t afford to linger any longer. The man nods and Jax gets out of the sleeping quarters to offer them some privacy.

He tries not to think of the last time he was there with his _buir_ as he climbs down the spiral stairs to the cockpit. Of course, it’s a total failure, because the first thing he sees when he enters is the silly drawings his father let him paint on the grey walls when he was a kid. Stars, he misses him so much. He would definitely scold him for taking so many risks, but a part of Jax hopes he would also be proud of him for trying to save those two clones, no matter how many times he told him not to get attached.

Jax knows it was mostly to protect him and not because he didn’t care about them. 

He sits down on the pilot chair, the old leather creaking under him and he can almost feel like his _buir_ is standing right behind him, laughing softly like he did the first time he let Jax pilot the _Cuyan_ on his own. 

Jax allows himself a few seconds to bask in the memory before pushing it away and making all the preparations for their departure. 

He is done calculating their course to Concord Dawn and making sure everything is in order when the doors hiss open, letting Garp in. 

“Zora wanted you to have this,” he says, handing him a small holocom. “Long-ranged, private and encrypted. They’ll contact you as soon as they find anything helpful about Jango and Boba.”

“They’re really staying here then?”

“They love this job. Plus, they think they can help more clones if they stay.”

“It’ll be good to have someone on the inside, if we ever decide to pull this off again,” Jax agrees with a smile.

Garp rolls his eyes. “I know you, Jax’ika. Those two are only the beginning of a long list of clones you’re about to steal from the Republic.”

“As if you wouldn’t have grabbed Kad’la and ran away with him if I’d said no.”

The older man suddenly looks extremely sad. “He’s a good kid,” he says softly. “He wouldn’t tell me what happened out there but… whatever it was, it’s hurting him.”

“I’ll look after him, Garp. I promise.”

“I know you will.”

Jax stands up to offer him a proper handshake, but Garp engulfs him in a tight hug. 

“I’ll see you again soon, Jax’ika.”

“If your wife doesn’t eat you alive,” he jokes, smiling when Garp barks a laugh. 

“ _Ne’johaa,”_ he groans affectionately. 

Garp releases him and with one last amused look, leaves. Jax settles on the pilot seat and takes a deep breath. 

It’s not much, but he is saving two clones from a certain death. He’ll do whatever he can to help them recover and if they can never get over what happened to them on Geonosis, then he’ll take care of them still. 

He _will_ find Boba. 

Jax turns on the engines, smiling softly as the _Cuyan_ ’s response is immediate and _loud._

He can do this.

* * *

**MANDO'A**

baar’ur = doctor

Cuyan = Survivor

dar’manda = a state of not being Mandalorian - not an outsider, but one who has lost his heritage, and so his identity and his soul

Ret’urcye mhi = goodbye - lit. *Maybe we'll meet again*

K’oyacyi = Stay alive

Kad’la = sharp

Ne’johaa = Shut up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like Echo got his name fairly recently in the Domino Squad episode, which is why I chose to call him '08' here even though I hate it haha
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, thanks for reading!


	3. Kad'la

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's time to dive into Kad'la's thoughts.
> 
> And yes, I changed the chapter count because I always have more to say. But the last chapter is already written so I'll post it soon.
> 
> I also want to thank sweet [ZoinksSc00b](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZoinksSc00b/pseuds/ZoinksSc00b) for beta reading this chapter (and apologize for the mess it was lmao). <3

Kad’la can feel the humming of the engine under his feet as the ship gently takes off. His face feels numb and he keeps trying to move the fingers of his right hand to feel the soft texture of the blanket under him, but the only sensations registered come from his left hand. He can hear the deep, regular breathing of the other clone laying down in front of him. But, the world is still dark and Kad'la feels nauseous.

Somewhere between Geonosis and Kamino, his vision turned black, leaving him in the darkness, lost and terrified. The last time Kad'la had been this afraid was when he was four years old and holding Cody tightly as they both wept for the brother they had just lost to the Kaminoans' obsession for perfection. Losing an arm is one thing, replacing it with a cybernetic wouldn't have cost the Kaminoans too much, but losing his sight? Kad'la and Cody had lost brothers just because their vision wasn't perfect, so, of course, he knows exactly what would happen to him if he stayed on Kamino.

It's not physical, Gilamar had said, and somehow it makes things even worse. 

Injuries are one thing, accidents happen and no matter how trained and skilled they are, sometimes, it’s just impossible to avoid getting hurt. He twisted his ankle once and it had definitely been his fault for not having the skills to pull off the move he had tried. His LAAT/i getting shot out of the sky, killing all of his men and completely destroying his arm in the crash, clearly wasn't something more training could have stopped. 

It hurts and he will never forget the sound of his brothers screaming as the fire ate away at their skin and flesh nor their desperate whimpers as their blood stained the wreckage of the LAAT/i. The smell of burning flesh is imprinted in his memory and Kad’la feels like gagging every time he thinks about it. Yet, there is nothing he could have done to change that, just like it’s not his fault his arm was ruined in the crash. 

The blindness is different. Because if it’s not physical, then it means there is something wrong with his  _ head _ and that’s not something Kad’la can easily accept. It means he  _ broke _ and only the weak break. He can’t be  _ weak. _

He might not get decommissioned because Gilamar decided to save his  _ shebs _ , but he is running away and that’s even worse. He’s abandoning his  _ vode _ to their fate, he’s leaving Cody and Davijaan behind and oh, stars,  _ Cody. _

He can still remember his  _ kih’vod _ ’s panicked look when they learned Kad’la and Davijaan were being deployed to Geonosis while Cody was being sent to Coruscant. Kad’la had grabbed his brother by the back of his neck and reminded him of the promise he had made him years ago.  _ I won’t let them separate us _ .  _ I will always come back. _

He is breaking this promise right now. He doesn’t know what Gilamar will put on his file exactly, but either way Cody will think he  _ died  _ when, in reality, he is running away like a  _ hut’uun _ . Maybe he should have just let the Kaminoans kill him instead. 

He doesn’t even know if Davijaan survived Geonosis and he can only hope he did because the thought of Cody losing the both of them makes him want to do something stupid. 

The ship starts as it jumps into hyperspace and Kad’la clenches his fist. There is no turning back now. He doesn’t know where he’s going nor what will happen to him and it’s  _ terrifying. _ Kad’la was bred and trained all his life for one thing: leading men into battle. If he can’t do that anymore, then what does he have left?

Why bother living if he can’t do what he was meant to? 

He is spiraling and doesn’t even realize his breath has become short and ragged. His whole body is shaking and he doesn’t hear the sound of footsteps approaching; so when he feels a hand on his shoulder, his first reflex is to defend himself. Kad’la tries to grab the offending limb, but he remembers his right arm is  _ gone _ as he fails to grasp anything. With a snarl, he clenches his left fist and swings aimlessly. 

“Hey, it’s me,” a voice says and Kad’la inhales sharply when he feels a tight grip encircle his wrist. “Kad’la, it’s Jax. You’re safe.”

A wet laugh escapes him. How can he ever be safe if he can’t even protect himself? Stars, he wants to punch something, but he’s not sure he even has the strength to stand up at this point. 

“Sorry, Sarge,” he croaks out.

The Sergeant releases his wrist and Kad’la immediately mourns the touch. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. His thoughts take him to memories of Cody bumping his shoulder against his with a cocky grin on his face, of being sandwiched between him and Davijaan while resting after a particularly rough day of training. He thinks about Dav’ slipping into his pod and burying his snotty face against his chest after a nightmare and making him promise not to tell Cody. He wants nothing more than to lay down against one of his brothers and fall asleep to the sound of his deep and relaxed breath. He wants to be reminded he is alive and that it’s a good thing, not feel guilty about it. 

“Have you slept at all since you left for Geonosis?” Kang asks.

Kad’la shrugs. He’s been unconscious for the most part of the journey back and it probably doesn’t count as sleep, but he doesn’t think he can anyway. 

“I’ve brought you a change of clothes if you’d rather get out of your blacks and the rest of your armor to take a shower.” 

Kad’la perks up at that. He is exhausted and on edge, but the thought of getting rid of the grime and blood he’s probably still covered in sounds so good he could actually cry. 

“Yeah, I’d like that,” he says and carefully gets on his feet. He doesn’t get the chance to ask for directions, for the Sergeant steps in front of him and grabs his left hand before putting it on his shoulder.

Kad’la can feel the cold metal of the pauldron covering his shoulder and he nods to signal Kang he is ready. The Sergeant slowly leads him towards the fresher and he can hear a door hiss open when they approach. The Mandalorian finally comes to a stop and makes noises Kad’la can’t really identify before coming back near him. 

Kad’la suddenly feels stupid and bites his lower lip as he realizes he has no idea what the room looks like and where he is supposed to go. Now that Kang suggested it, he is desperate for a shower but he can’t even do that on his own. Stars, he feels so  _ useless. _

He is shaking again, but Kang clasps his hand on his shoulder and Kad’la leans into the touch almost unconsciously. 

“Let me help?” 

Getting in and out of armor as fast as possible and in the worst conditions possible is one of the first things they learned. Kad’la is supposed to be able to do it with his eyes closed, but, then again, he is supposed to have  _ two hands _ to do it. This is so humiliating and Kad’la’s first thought is to refuse. Kang isn’t a brother. He has helped Cody and Dav’ get out of their armor after a long day spent running simulations. He’s let them take off his, piece by piece, when he was too bruised and battered to do it himself. However, Kang isn’t one of his  _ vode _ . Heis one of the people who could have sent him to reconditioning if he’d wanted to and the thought of appearing so  _ weak _ in front of him makes his skin crawl. 

It doesn’t matter that Wolffe and Fox always spoke highly of Kang. He’s seen the Sergeant interact with his brothers and he knows Kang is  _ one of the good ones _ just like Harvin. It also doesn’t matter that Kang probably isn’t even a _ Sergeant _ anymore. This feels like admitting defeat and Kad’la hates it. 

But he can’t do it alone and,  _ kriff, _ does he want that shower.

So he nods, albeit dejectedly. 

The medics got rid of the upper parts of his armor so they could take care of his arm and check him for other injuries, so he can hear Kang kneel down in front of him to remove the plastoid pieces covering his legs and grits his teeth. The thought of the Sergeant kneeling for him makes him glad he can’t see anything for a second because he’s not sure he could stand such a sight. But, Kang is quick and efficient. He removes each piece of armor and helps Kad’la out of his boots until he is standing there wearing nothing but his blacks. Then he gets behind him and slides down the opening before peeling off the bodysuit. Kad’la isn’t shy. Being naked in front of someone isn’t something that bothers him and he is pretty sure Kang has seen a fair amount of  _ shebs _ exactly like his on Kamino. So, no, Kad’la isn’t embarrassed or self-conscious. He just feels awfully vulnerable and he just wants to get this over with.

“The wrappings around your arm are waterproof; they’ll be fine,” Kang speaks softly and Kad’la nods. 

“I’ll lead you to the shower stall now.”

He doesn’t put Kad’la’s hand on his shoulder this time. Instead, he presses a hand against the middle of his back and slowly directs him towards the shower. 

“Watch the step.” He does, feels the change of texture under his feet, and stops when Kang stops applying pressure against his back.

Cold armor brushes against his skin, making him shiver as the Sergeant presses against him to fumble with something and Kad’la starts when he hears the sudden sound of water hitting the floor. 

“How d’you like it?” he asks and Kad’la moves his hand forward until he can feel the water. It’s warm, perhaps not as warm as he’d like it to be, but he’s not going to ask the Sergeant to fiddle with the settings until he’s satisfied.

“S’good,” he says instead and carefully steps forward. With his left hand, he tries to gauge the size of the stall. He hums curiously when he meets one of the walls and keeps trying to situate himself. Once satisfied, Kad’la closes his eyes before he puts his head under the spray of warm water and sighs. His face stings around his right eye and he can feel where he probably has some cuts and bruises but this is fine. He’s getting rid of the sand, the smell of smoke, and blood. Too bad he can’t get rid of the memories of that shithole as well. 

Kang stays behind him, just far enough to avoid getting wet, and helps him figure out how to use the control panel of the shower. With soap and shampoo, Kad’la scrubs himself clean. It’s a struggle with only one hand. He’s pretty sure he’s missing a few spots, but Kang doesn’t say a word; lets him do everything himself, and Kad’la is grateful. 

He’s done rinsing his hair and opens his eyes, only to stop breathing when he’s met with Sergeant Kang’s face. 

His heart stills inside his chest as he takes in the scar running across his right eye, the golden skin, and dark hair. It’s a face he’s familiar with, one he associates with hours of training with his brothers on Kamino and it might have been hell most of the time, but somehow it’s  _ comforting. _

His knees almost give out under his weight and he has to catch himself against the closest wall. Kang is already moving, stepping inside the shower to steady him. He is getting his armor and clothes wet, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he watches Kad’la’s face carefully and seems to come to a conclusion.

“You-”   


“Yeah,” Kad’la rasps.

He can see him. He can see  _ everything. _ Kang’s smile is almost blinding and he slowly lets go of him once he’s sure Kad’la won’t fall on his  _ shebs _ . Now that he can see again, the clone turns off the shower himself by pressing his hand against the control panel and watches as the Sergeant gets out of the stall to grab a towel. Kang lets him dry himself with the towel as much as he can manage alone, but he’s back to help him quietly with getting dressed. Black underwear, black comfy pants and a white long-sleeved shirt Kang decides to roll up around his right arm. Kad’la doesn’t even look at it. Instead, he watches the room around him and tries to commit every single detail to memory.

Unless Kang’s ship has some magic showers in there, then Gilamar was right and the blindness was only psychological and temporary. 

“Is it... completely back?” 

Kad'la nods. He can see perfectly. As if nothing ever happened. 

So he did break. He went through years of training on Kamino, was deemed competent enough to be chosen by the Kaminoans to become a Commander, and yet his first battle was enough to break his mind. 

Why would his vision return  _ now? _ Because he is running away from Kamino like a kriffin’  _ hut’uun?  _ Kad’la grits his teeth and almost jumps out of his skin when the Sergeant puts a hand on his shoulder. He can feel Kang’s thumb brush against the back of his neck gently and looks up warily. 

“We don’t control the way we react to traumatic events,” Kang says softly. 

“Don’t,” Kad hisses. He can’t do this, not right now.

The Sergeant frowns, but he finally nods and lets go of his shoulder. 

"I’m not Gilamar, I won’t threaten to sedate you so you get some rest, but you probably should.” 

Kad’la lets a shaky breath out, relieved to see Kang won’t insist they talk about feelings, trauma and all that  _ osik _ he definitely doesn’t want to think about. As for getting some rest… It’s not like he has anything else to do, Kad’la thinks bitterly. They never had much down time on Kamino. They were always busy training, learning about military strategy, running drills or too tired to do anything but sleep. He had a  _ purpose _ there and, for the first time in his life, Kad’la has none. What is the point of training if he never ends up on a battlefield again? Why make sure he gets better and stronger if he’s not out there protecting his brothers anymore? 

Kriff, he’s doing it again. Kad’la closes his eyes for a second. Maybe he  _ should _ get some sleep. He doesn’t think he can actually quiet his mind enough to fall asleep, but laying down sounds like a good idea so he nods. 

They return to the bedroom where the other clone is still unconscious. Kad’la can now see the cuts and bruises covering his face and the long scar running across his throat. With his stronger and bigger build, he’s obviously a Republic Commando and Kad’la realizes he knows this one. The CC sometimes trained alongside the Republic Commandos so he’s familiar with the men trained by Harvin. Since Harvin was close friends with Kang and his late father, Kad’la and his brothers had often participated in joint training with their men. 

He can’t say he has fond memories of those exercises. The Republic Commandos were a bunch of smug assholes who thought they were above the  _ Regular Clones _ , as they liked to call Kad’la and his brothers. Sure, they had been modified to be even more lethal than the other clones and encouraged to be more independent, but that didn’t make them better men than Kad’la, just crazier. 

The RC laying on the bed, Orar, is the perfect example of how stubborn and insane they can all be. Kad’la remembers seeing him pull crazy stunts during sparring and how easily he had grabbed Cody and put him on his back as if his brother had weighed  _ nothing _ with a large, mocking grin on his face. 

He looks small here. Small and fragile, with the mask covering his pale face and the empty spot where his left leg should be, under the cover.

“What’s wrong with him?” Kad’la asks with a frown. “Besides the leg.”

He watches as Kang kneels beside the Commando and runs a hand through his short dark curls in a tender gesture that makes Kad’la feel like he shouldn’t be seeing this. 

“He attacked Nala Se,” the Sergeant whispers hoarsely. 

Kad’la makes a face. Yeah, okay, he can see how that wouldn’t have ended well for him if he had stayed on Kamino. A clone attacking a long-neck is… bad. Extremely bad. Some clones have been decommissioned for less than that. 

“I’m pretty sure he didn’t even realize who she was. He just--” 

The Sergeant interrupts himself and sighs. “It doesn’t matter. No matter what he’s safe from the long-necks now. So are you,” he says as he stands up to face him again. 

Kad’la isn’t sure what to say to that, so he remains silent and walks over to a bunk and lays down with a groan. He was too on edge to pay attention earlier, but the mattress is softer than the one in his pod on Kamino had been. He doesn’t know if he likes it or not. The soft, rectangular thing under his head is definitely weird though. Kad’la understands it’s meant to be comfortable, something to lay his head on, but it feels too foreign so he pushes it away against the wall with a grunt. Stars, having only one arm makes everything so much more troublesome.

“You should get under the cover. It gets cold up here in space,” Kang tells him and Kad’la frowns.

He isn’t used to blankets. Clone pods are heated so they don’t need anything covering them so they don’t get cold at night and as he eyes the blanket covering the other sleeping clone, Kad’la can’t help but think it seems awfully restricting. But he nods and shifts his hips so he can untuck the cover from under him and pull it over his legs. 

Kang smiles at him. “His monitor is connected to my comms,” he says, tapping his vambrace. “I’ll be in the living area if you need anything. First door on the left.”

“Yes, sir,” Kad’la says, and he doesn’t miss the way Kang pinches his lips as if stopping himself from saying anything.

He leaves then, and Kad’la is left staring at the ceiling of his bunk. There are drawings there, childlike and colorful figures floating in a night sky. He recognizes a few creatures he has seen in holos during training as well as two Mandalorians in armor holding hands. One of them wears Kang’s armor, the one he knows used to belong to his father. He feels weird and out of place when he realizes this must have been Kang’s bed when he was a kid. 

Kad’la can’t help but think he shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t see any of this. The drawings get all blurry and, for a second, his blood turns cold as Kad’la thinks his world is about to be engulfed in darkness again. Then he feels the first tears running down his cheeks and a wet gasp escapes him when he realizes he’s crying. 

He can see again.  _ He can see again. _

But he can never go back to his brothers. 

He might not see them ever again. 

Kad’la curls up on himself and presses his hand against his mouth to muffle the sound of his sobbing. 

* * *

Kad’la awakes to the sounds of someone whispering softly and a painful, wet gasp. His eyes fly open as instinct kicks in and he gets ready to jump out of bed and help whichever brother needs him. Kad’la doesn’t think. He only knows that he can’t let anyone see one of his  _ vode _ cry, can’t let the Kaminiise think he’s  _ defective. _ But, nothing happens when he tries to push on his arm to stand up, and that’s when Kad’la remembers said arm is missing.

He remembers what happened and where he is.

Kad’la holds his breath and turns his head to see Kang with his back on him, kneeling next to the other injured clone’s bed. He’s awake, sitting on his bunk, his eyes wide as he’s struggling to breathe. He’s the one crying, gasping for air while Kang holds his hand while the other one is pressed against his chest.

“The blanket,” Orar says, his voice shaking.

“Go ahead, describe it for me.”

“It’s blue.”

“Yeah? What kind of blue?”

He frowns, struggling to find his words. “The sea, twice a year when the sun’s out.”

Kang laughs softly. “Okay, touch it now, how does it feel?”

“Soft,” his voice seems steadier. “A bit worn-out, it’s--”

His voice dies down and his face pales. He’s staring at his legs, Kad’la realizes. Or, rather, the missing one.

“Eyes on me,” Kang snaps suddenly. He lets go of the clone and Kad’la can’t really see what he’s doing from here, but, after a little bit of fumbling, he presses one of his vambraces between the soldier’s hands.

“Come on, Or’ika, focus on this. What can you feel?” he urges him. 

“C-cold,” he gasps.

“Good, what else?” 

“Smooth too, it’s… smooth, no imperfection, not a scratch.” 

“You’re doing great. Now, what can you smell? Take a deep breath and tell me.”

Orar inhales sharply. “Bacta,” he says. He has stopped crying, and he seems to be breathing with more ease. 

“Anything else?” 

“I don’t--” he starts, frowning again. “I don’t know what it is.”

“Okay. Is it a good or a bad smell?” 

“I don’t know, it’s-- it’s not  _ good _ , but-- not too bad either? Just-- weird.”

Kang hums. “The ventilation system isn’t done clearing the air so it still smells a bit stale. It’s not something you’d have smelled on Kamino,” he tells him. Kad’la takes a deep breath and commits the smell to memory like he does with every new thing he learns. From the look on his face, the other clone is doing exactly the same.

“How do you feel?” Kang asks softly. 

But Orar isn’t listening. He’s looking around him, assessing his surroundings and freezes when his eyes meet Kad’la’s. He looks mortified for a second before he manages to school his features and stare blankly at Kang. 

“Where are we?” 

“Aboard my f-- my ship. Orar… d’you remember what happened?”

The clone clenches his jaw and visibly tenses. “Geonosis. I-- T’was a mess, Sarge,” he rasps and it’s Kad’la’s turn to look away.

He doesn’t want to listen to this. He doesn’t want to think about Geonosis. 

“Adenn and Ram, they--” his voice breaks.

“I’m sorry,” Kang whispers, his own voice shaking.

“My leg got caught in a sonic blast,” Orar says. “Seven dragged my  _ shebs _ away from the enemy line, and then I… I don’t know, must have lost consciousness. Where’s he? Sev? Is he-- is he okay?”

“I don’t know. The battle ended two days ago. You were shipped back to Kamino with the other injured clones. You-- you woke up while Nala Se was taking care of you.”

Orar frowns, clearly not remembering any of this. 

“Orar, you attacked her,” Kang says carefully. 

The clone pales and his eyes widen. “What? I don’t--”

“I know. You weren’t yourself, but Nala Se… she was going to have you decommissioned for this.”

Kad’la can see the moment Orar understands. “Sarge… what did you do?” 

“The only thing I could possibly do in this situation,” Kang says, sounding sheepish.

“You-- I can’t believe you,” Orar sighs and runs a hand through his short curls. “And what’s  _ he _ doing here?” 

Kang turns around, his eyes widening when he sees Kad’la is awake. 

“He would have been decommissioned too,” is all he says and Kad’la doesn’t know if he should be grateful the Sergeant isn’t saying the whole truth.  _ He’s a coward _ would have been more accurate. 

“So you decided to grab us and run away? The fuck, Sarge? The long-necks don’t joke around with their property. They’ll sic those crazy ARC bastards on your  _ shebs _ for this.” 

“Please, Orar, I’m smarter than that. They think you’re dead,” Kang snaps back. “No one’s coming after us.”

“And now what? We settle on a backwater planet and play house?” Orar sneers.

“If that’s what you want.” 

“What I--” the clone starts before laughing abruptly. It’s not a nice sound. It’s dark and desperate, a perfect echo of what Kad’la is feeling right now. 

“Orar.  _ Or’ika. _ I don’t have everything figured out, okay? But I couldn’t-- I couldn’t just let them kill you. Not this time, not again. I had to-- I had to do  _ something. _ ” 

Orar shakes his head and slowly lays down on the bed, visibly exhausted. 

“You’re a  _ di’kut, s _ ir,” he adds after a thought.

“I know, but you’re stuck with me so get used to it.” 

Kang squeezes Orar’s hand between his fingers and stands up. “Get some rest, okay?” 

The Commando groans, but he closes his eyes. Kad’la shifts on the bed so he can sit up and meet the Sergeant’s gaze. Kang gives him a small smile.

“You look better,” he says. “You hungry?”

He doesn’t really feel like eating after this, but he’s feeling awfully weak too and Kad’la knows how important food is. If he wants to regain his strength and feel less useless, he’s going to have to eat something, so he nods and stands up. 

“Follow me then.” 

Kang leads them towards the living area and Kad’la takes the time to observe his surroundings. He has no idea how big the ship is or what model it is - Davijaan is the starship nerd, and Kad’la is pretty sure this one has been too customized for his brother to recognize. It looks old but extremely well-maintained. The first thing he notices when entering the room Kang leads him into is the large kitchen area and the six stools aligned in front of a counter. On the other side, there’s a deep blue angled couch and a round small table covered in datapads, circuits and tools. There’s a dinner table a bit further which is big enough to welcome four people and, finally, a spiral staircase leading to the lower levels of the ship. Everything is in different shades of grey and blue, giving a peaceful atmosphere to the room. 

“I only have rations, but-- well, you’re used to it,” Kang says, scrunching up his nose. 

“Never had anything else, sir,” he shrugs. 

The rations created by the Kaminoans ensure sure they receive the exact amount of calories they need and sometimes have a little bit of flavor so the clones don’t get too bored of them. Kad’la has never had any problem with them, but he found out two years ago that eating was a whole different story for the nat-borns. Something that doesn’t take him and his brothers more than ten minutes can apparently last for  _ hours _ according to Harvin and Kad’la can’t imagine wasting so much time on fulfilling basic needs. Harvin did tell them about the different courses, all the different ingredients that could be used to prepare a meal, and how they were even arranged on the plate sometimes to make it look… fancy. 

Making something that’ll end up eaten and digested look pretty really is a concept Kad’la can’t wrap his head around. Yet, Harvin had looked so sad when Cody had voiced his concerns over the efficiency of the way nat-borns ate, so the brothers had all agreed to just listen and learn.

Kang gestures for him to sit at the table and opens one of the kitchen cupboards.

“They’re not Kaminiise rations, so you might have to eat more than one to get your fill,” he says as he retrieves a large box to bring it to the table.

“So I’ve got… bantha stew, nerf steak and veggies, Mon Cala sardine, Mynock Wings, and err-- oh yeah, cereal and fruits or chocolate ration for dessert,” Kang lists while rummaging through the box and pulling out different bars enveloped in colorful packaging.

Kad’la stares at him, his mind reeling.

“Right. Sorry. You should try the nerf steak. You can’t really go wrong with that one,” he says and pushes two rations towards Kad’la. “And chocolate,” he smiles and adds a third one.

Kad’la grabs one of the rations and brings it closer to figure out how he’s supposed to remove the packaging. Of course, there is no way to do it with only one hand. The clone scowls then brings it to his mouth and just tears it open with his teeth. There. He’s not helpless, he can do things on his own, even if it means having to figure out different ways to do stuff. The package reveals a cylindrical brown ration and a strong smell immediately hits his nose. It’s not unpleasant, quite the opposite actually, as Kad’la feels his stomach rumble loudly. Well, it’s not like Kang is going to poison him anyway, so he takes his first bite and almost spits it out the second the small bit of ration touches his tongue.

It feels like something exploded inside his mouth. 

He can’t…  _ Stars _ , he doesn’t even have  _ words _ to describe what it’s like. The rations on Kamino are supposed to have  _ some _ flavor, but it’s nothing compared to what he is tasting right now. Kad’la starts chewing and groans as more of the wonderful taste fills his mouth.

“What the fuck,” he moans around a mouthfull. 

“What? Do they taste bad? I checked the date, those are still good to go for another twenty y-- oh,” he stops when he sees Kad’la take another bite. “You like it.”

Kad’la nods frantically. Of course he likes it! Those are the best things he has ever tasted.

“You--” he starts and something almost sad crosses his features. “Of course you do. Well, there’s more than enough to last us the whole journey to Concord Dawn, so knock yourself out.”

Kad’la devours the first ration and immediately starts opening the second one before he frowns and looks up. “Concord Dawn?”

“Yeah, that’s where we’re heading. I have-- well, I  _ should _ have friends here. I haven’t seen them in over eight years so… you know. But they’re good people, and if they’re not too mad at me and my father for letting them believe we were dead for the past few years… well, even then, they’ll probably help us.”

“That’s where the Prime was from, right? Concord Dawn,” Kad’la asks while focusing on the wrappings of his ration bar. He tears it open with his teeth and fumbles a bit with it before he finally manages to pull the ration out. 

That’s when he realizes Kang hasn’t replied. So he looks up and-- oh.

“You said  _ was, _ ” Kang breathes. “Did-- did Garp tell you anything? Or--”

Kad’la winces. “On Geonosis, I was on one of the LAAT/i tasked with extracting the  _ Jetii _ out of that arena. One of the Jedi we picked up-- I heard him talk with General Yoda, he said… he was angry with himself, because he had killed Fett and wished he could have avoided it. Something about… I don’t know, Shatterpoints?” He frowns. “No idea what those are, but he seemed… upset.”

Kang has gone pale and he’s clenching his fists. “A  _ Jetii _ ?” he hisses through his teeth. “He was killed by a  _ Jetii? _ How could they? He helps create an army for them and that’s how they repay him? After what they did to our people?”

He knocks the box of rations off the counter, its content spilling on the floor. Kad’la has no idea what he means by  _ what they did to our people _ , but he already knows that Kang won’t like what he’s about to say. 

“He was working for Dooku.”

Kang freezes. Kad’la has no love for Jango Fett. To be perfectly honest, he barely cares about the man. He’s just the bounty hunter who let the Kaminoans use his genes to create an army. He’s nothing more than a donor. Fett didn’t train him nor his brothers and Kad’la has barely seen the man in the eight years he spent on Kamino.

Jango Fett doesn’t mean shit to him. 

He means even less now that he appears to be an  _ aruetii. _

“He was with the Separatists,” he sneers and watches as Kang closes his eyes and looks like he’s in pain.

“What the  _ kriff, _ Jango,” he croaks out. 

Kad’la almost feels bad for him. Hearing that their genetic template had betrayed the Republic they’d been trained all their life to serve hadn’t been pleasant, but at least Kad’la had no real ties to the man. From what he’s gathered, Fett had been  _ aliit _ to Kang. 

“What about… Boba? Did the Jetii say anything about Boba?”

Kad’la shakes his head. “No. I’m sorry, sir.”

Kang sighs and rubs his face with one hand. “It’s fine.”

He quietly picks up the box and rations he threw off the counter while Kad’la finishes his second ration. He takes his time, savouring every bite and chewing slowly. The clone still can’t believe food can taste like this, but it does remind him of the things Harvin used to tell him and his brothers. Maybe he can see how meals can last for hours for nat-borns now. He wouldn’t mind spending the rest of the day eating this if he could. 

The Sergeant is frowning, seemingly deep in thoughts as he finishes cleaning up the mess he made. He closes the box, putting it back inside the cupboard, and walks over to the sink to fill a glass of water which he puts on the counter next to Kad’la. His mouth is still full so he thanks him with a nod. He finishes eating and downs the glass with a few loud gulps. Even the kriffing water tastes different although it must be from Kamino. He wouldn’t be surprised if the long-necks used a whole different filtering system for the water they drink. 

Kad’la eyes the last ration.  _ Chocolate _ , Kang had said, and he has no idea what chocolate is, but he’s definitely curious considering how good the previous ration was. He makes quick work of taking it out of the wrappings - he’s getting good at this at least - and takes his first bite.

“What. The fuck,” he moans.

Kang’s laugh sounds a bit strained, but he’s laughing nonetheless.

* * *

**MANDO'A  
** shebs = ass  
kih'vod = little brother  
hut'uun = coward  
di'kut = idiot  
aruetii = traitor **  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	4. The Ael'ter Clan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter! 
> 
> I have a lot of adventures planned for Jax, Kad'la, Orar and the members of the Ael'ter Clan so this was mostly an introduction and you'll see them all again throughout the MIKROKOSMOS series. I'm already working on the next fic, which is taking us back to Cody and Obi-Wan. =D
> 
> Thanks for reading!

The _Cuyan_ swiftly pulls out of hyperspace and Jax is left staring at Concord Dawn through the viewport. It took them six days to reach the planet and he couldn’t be happier to finally see it. Orar started developing a bad fever on the second day and spent most of the journey completely out of it, delirious and in pain. Jax barely had any sleep, unable to stop worrying about the clone. He’s exhausted and he wants nothing more than to lay down for twelve hours straight. Thankfully, Orar’s fever is gone now and they managed to get him to eat this morning before he drifted off to sleep again. Kad’la has been a great help, and Jax is extremely grateful the other clone is in better shape than Orar. He doesn’t think he could have taken care of them both. 

“That’s… a lot of green,” a voice says behind him and Jax turns around to find Kad’la standing in the doorway, looking curious. 

“It’s the beginning of spring on Concord Dawn. We couldn’t have picked a better timing to visit,” he says with a smile. 

The clone hums and sits down on the seat next to him. He looks tired, too. Orar has kept them both awake, but Jax is pretty sure Kad’la wouldn’t have slept either way. 

“Alright, let’s do this,” he mutters and grabs the controls. He brings them closer to the planet and opens the communication channel as soon as the panel lights up to signal an incoming transmission. 

“Your ship’s signature isn’t in our database. State your business.” 

At least some things never change. “Apologies, I’m sending you the data right away,” Jax mutters and quickly lifts off the Ghost Mode of the _Cuyan_ so they can identify the ship. “We’re here for business.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath on the other side of the communication.

“This ship belongs to a dead man,” the voice says and Jax winces. 

“Yes,” he admits and, kriff, that _hurts_ , even now. “It’s mine now.”

“Jax’ika?” The tone is soft, hopeful. 

Jax’s heart misses a beat. There aren’t many Journeyman Protectors who could still be on duty and know his father as well as him. 

“Dean?” 

The man laughs and Jax grins. 

“You owe me a good explanation, _ad’ika_ ,” he rumbles. “ _Business_ , uh?” 

“It’s been eight years. What was I supposed to say?”

“That you’re here to visit your _aliit_ , you _di’kut._ ” 

A warm feeling blooms inside his chest and Jax feels his eyes burn. Kriff, he hasn’t even seen the old man yet and he already feels like crying. Jax takes a deep breath.

“I need to see Nash,” he says once he’s sure his voice won’t waver. 

“Yeah, I figured. Alright, you’re free to go, kid. And you better come here and say hi once you’re done with Nash.”

“You mean once Nash is done with me,” Jax says, scrunching up his nose. 

Dean barks a laugh at that and ends the communication. And, just like that, it feels like coming home. It’ll probably be a whole different story once he reaches Nash’s home, but, for now, Jax allows himself to just enjoy the fact that, despite all those years and the lies, Dean still considers him _aliit._

The _Cuyan_ breaches the surface smoothly and Jax follows the coordinates to Nash’s home. Next to him, Kad’la is staring through the viewport with wide, curious eyes as they fly over green forests and large fields. Jax can’t help it, he slows down a bit so Kad’la can enjoy the view. Nash’s domain finally appears in the distance and Jax scoffs when he realizes that the place basically looks like a small village now. Nash’s home sits in the middle of the large domain along with the shop and the forge, but he can see four new buildings that weren’t there the last time Jax was on Concord Dawn. 

Jax lands the _Cuyan_ on the large platform Nash built years ago for customers. He shuts down the engine and takes a moment to just stare at the house, his throat tightening as memories of this place start coming back with more ease. 

“Here goes nothing,” he mutters and finally stands. 

Kad’la is quick to follow him as he climbs the stairs, but Jax stops before the door to the airlock.

“You should stay here until I know this place is safe,” he says with a rueful smile. 

The clone scowls, but he doesn’t argue. So Jax gets off the ship and takes a deep breath as soon as he’s outside. Kriff, but he missed the smell of fresh air. He takes the stairs down the platform and doesn’t hesitate before heading towards the shop. The doors hiss open when he approaches them and a bell shimmers, signaling his entrance. There’s a child perched on the counter. He doesn’t look older than four and he’s playing with colorful cubes, stacking them up in a high tower that looks about to crumble. Next to him is a man and he looks surprisingly smaller than Jax remembers. He is entirely bald, his skull covered in tattoos and there’s a little bit of white in his impressive grey beard. There are more tattoos on his toned forearms, revealed by his rolled up sleeves. He has one arm around the kid to make sure he doesn’t fall off the counter, a datapad in the other hand and when he looks up, Jax immediately feels pinned down by those calculating, grey eyes.

The old man looks him over and Jax holds his breath. He’s wearing his father’s armor and he hasn’t even changed the painting, so he knows it’s only a matter of seconds until Nash recognizes it. The armorer knows his own work. Finally, his eyes grow wide and he suddenly looks up to study Jax’s face. He knows how much he looks like his mother. He has the same nose, the same lips. The scar running across his right eye is pretty new, but that won’t stop Nash from figuring out who he is.

“ _Su’cuy, ba’vodu_ ,” Jax says with a sheepish smile. 

“Su’cuy, he says. He shows up after letting me believe he was dead for eight years, and he says _su’cuy._ Can you believe that, Tae?” 

The kid shakes his head. “Nuh-uh.”

Jax makes a face. “I can explain?”

“Oooh, he says he can explain. Do you think that’ll stop _ba’buir_ from tanning his hide, Ta’ika?” Nash coos and the child giggles.

“Nuh-uh!” 

“You’d have to catch me first, old man.”

Nash freezes and looks up, squinting. For a second, Jax wonders if he should actually start running.

“Come here, Jax’ika,” the old man says as he lifts up the kid with a grunt to put him safely on the floor. 

Jax swallows around the lump in his throat and takes the few steps separating him from Nash. The armorer then rounds the counter and plants himself in front of him.

“You’re taller,” he grunts and Jax opens his mouth to point out that it _has_ been eight years after all, but the older man suddenly grabs him by the back of his neck and pulls him down so he can engulf him in a bear hug.

Jax blinks. 

“Where the _kriff_ have you been, _ad’ika?_ ” Nash asks, his voice rough.

Shit. 

_Shit._

Jax doesn’t even bother fighting his tears this time. He wraps his arms around Nash and closes his eyes, breathing in the familiar smell of fire and old leather coming from the old man. 

“It’s a long story,” he rasps.

Nash pulls away from the embrace to meet his eyes. 

“It’s all over the HoloNet so I’m going to assume you’ve seen that brand new army the Republic got.”

Nash scowls. “Ta’ika? Go find your _ba’vodu_ and tell him _ba’buir_ is going to be busy for a while,” he says firmly.

The kid nods and immediately runs off to the back of the shop. 

“Alright, now tell me everything.”

So Jax does.

He tells him about Jango contacting his father eight years ago for a top secret contract. About the millions of clones they found on Kamino and how his father was supposed to train some of them along with other people recruited by Jango. How it was so secret they all had to disappear, fake their death, and become the _Cuy’val Dar._ He tells him about his father’s death, how the cancer ate away at him painfully. That it was fast, at least, but far from the honorable death his _buir_ wanted. 

He tells him about Jango’s death and his son, Boba, who is now lost and alone somewhere.

By the end of his tale, Nash looks _furious._ It started when Jax first mentioned the clones and something tells him that, if Nash had Jango in front of him, he would punch him in the face, _Mand’alor_ or not. Yet, no matter how angry he is at Jango, his face falls when he learns about his death. 

Nash is pacing and Jax suddenly feels exhausted. But he is not done, not yet. 

“I left with two clones,” he tells him. The old man freezes and looks up. “They’re both injured and the Kaminiise would have killed them if I’d left without them.”

“ _Demagolke,”_ Nash snarls.

“They need medical care and... a place to stay,” Jax says carefully. “I can pay for everything they need, I--”

“With the credits you and your father earned creating that army of slaves?” Nash answers harshly and Jax snaps his mouth shut.

Shame knots his guts, but Jax keeps staring right back at the old man. It hurts, but he deserves it. 

“Take me to them,” Nash finally says.

Jax nods and leads him back to the _Cuyan._ Kad’la isn’t in the living area when they come aboard, so Jax calls for him, mostly to signal that he’s not an intruder. He doesn’t doubt that he can take the clone without much trouble considering his missing arm, but he remembers what getting punched in the face by one of those guys feels like and he doesn’t really want to repeat the experience right now. 

“In here,” Kad’la’s voice echoes from the sleeping quarters. 

They find him with Orar, who is awake and sitting on his bed, looking a lot better than he has these past few days. Kad’la stands up at attention the second he realizes Jax isn’t alone, and the young man feels Nash freeze and inhale sharply behind him when he sees the clones. Jax wasn’t even born when Jango used to look as young as they do, but Nash was there. Being faced with exact copies of the man he used to call _Mand’alor_ must be a strange experience, especially after what Jax just told him. 

The two clones are looking at the old man with the same wary expression on their face, so Jax takes a step forward and puts his hand on Kad’la’s shoulder. 

“At ease, soldier,” he tells the clone. “This is Nash Ael’ter, he’s an old friend.”

“Sir,” they both say with a nod. 

That seems to pull Nash out of his thoughts.

“Well, they sure have more manners than he ever did,” he mutters. “What are your names, boys?”

The two clones share a look. 

“I’m Kad’la, sir.”

“Orar.”

Nash hums and watches them both critically. Jax isn’t sure what the old man sees on their face, but it seems to convince him because he pulls a comlink out of his pocket. 

“ _Buir?_ ” a voice says with a hint of concern at the other end of the line. “Is something wrong with Tae?”

“Your _ad_ is fine, Elissa. But I have two lads in need of medical care and I can’t send them over to the clinic. Recent amputations, one of them probably developed an infection by the look of him, and they both look like _osik_ so you can add sleep deprivation to the list.” 

If Elissa is surprised by her father’s request, she doesn’t let it show. “Okay. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” 

“Thank you, El’ika,” he says before ending the call.

“So… how likely is she to punch me in the face?” Jax asks tentatively.

Nash’s smile is sharp and terrifying.

* * *

Elissa did not, in fact, punch him in the face. She actually hugged him tight enough to suffocate him if he hadn’t been wearing his armor and made him promise to tell her everything before tending to the clones. Kad’la was healing fine and would be ready to get a prosthetic arm in two weeks or so if he wanted. Orar was a different story. The fever and the infection were gone, but it had left him weak and slowed down the healing process. According to Elissa, he would need at least a month of recovery before they could think of getting him a prosthetic. 

Nevertheless, they would be fine and that was all that mattered right now.

They settled Orar in Elissa’s old bedroom where the clone fell asleep quickly once she was done with him, still exhausted by the infection his body just fought. So they moved to the living room where they found Jenal, Nash’s oldest, and the kid Jax had seen earlier. Tae immediately ran towards his mother who scooped him up to press a kiss on his forehead while Jenal stared at Jax like he was seeing a ghost. 

Nash made some caf while Jax went through the process of explaining everything again. 

Jenal and Elissa’s reactions were similar to their father’s and Jax bore the weight of their accusing looks without faltering. 

Thankfully, he managed to change the conversation to what the whole clan Ael’ter had been up to for the past eight years. They clearly weren’t fooled, but they indulged him anyway.

Jenal was still working at the armory with his father. According to Nash, he was even more talented than his _buir_ and had won them several new clients over the years. Jenal immediately offered him to take a look at his armor and adjust it so it would fit Jax better. The young man could only accept humbly. Elissa had opened her own clinic near town with her wife, Norah. Their son, Tae, was four years old and spent most of his time with Nash when his mothers were working. Then came Arden, who was somewhere, chasing a bounty with his girlfriend Amara - “She’s great, you’ll like her”, Elissa said with a smile - and Myran, his adopted brother. Finally, they told him about Nina, Nash’s second adopted child, who had finished her studies a few years ago and opened her own shop near the Ael’ter forge. She was apparently designing the best prosthetics in the Sector and would no doubt take care of Kad’la and Orar.

Jax was in the middle of processing all that information when Nina actually barged in, having no doubt recognized the _Cuyan_ on the landing platform outside.

This time, Jax definitely got punched in the face and yelled at for disappearing and letting them think he was dead. Then he had to explain everything _again_.

By the end of his third retelling of the past eight years and current situation he’s in, Nash and Jenal have left the table to start making dinner and Elissa has gone home with her son. Jax feels _exhausted;_ he doesn’t think he has _ever_ talked that much.

“So, what’s the plan now?” Nina asks.

“I have to find Boba,” Jax answers immediately. “But I have no lead so far, so I’m going to have to build my own network first.”

He already has a list of people he trusts enough to ask for help, and another list of people he can pay to get him the information he needs. It’s not much, but it’s a start.

“It’ll take a while, so I’ll help Kad’la and Orar settle in and--” he pauses, hesitates. “I think-- I think I want to help more clones get out.”

Jax glances at Kad’la, who seems startled by his words.

“Sir?” 

“I could only get you two out, but more got hurt, more _will_ get hurt. If they can’t go back to the frontlines…”

He doesn’t need to finish his sentence. 

“I’m in,” the clone immediately says.

Jax wants to argue that getting anywhere near the GAR is way too dangerous for him and that he’d rather he and Orar stayed here on Concord Dawn. But he doesn’t. Because he knows they won’t want to just stay here and settle down while their brothers are out there fighting. Kad’la hasn’t said a word about it, but Jax has spent a week watching him struggle with the guilt of running away while his _vode_ are risking their life everyday. 

He knows Orar probably feels the same.

“Okay,” he says and watches as Kad’la visibly relaxes. “We’ll start once you are both healed and operational.” 

That’ll give him enough time to start planning with Zora. He has no doubt they’ll be onboard with the idea. 

“Speaking of which,” Nina says, staring at Kad’la with her eyes gleaming with clear interest. “What kind of prosthetic will you be looking for?”

The clone blinks. “An arm?” he says, half-joking. 

Nina snorts. “Thanks, _di’kut_ , I figured. What I mean is: what will you use it for? You don’t build a prosthetic for a farmer the same way you build one for a bounty hunter, you see. How reactive or sensitive will it have to be, what kind of alloy should I use, any hidden weapons? Jax will pay for it anyway, you can go wild.”

“I-- What? No, I can’t possibly--”

“Nin’ika, leave the poor man alone and help me set the table,” Nash’s voice comes from the kitchen.

“ _Buir_ , it’s important!”

“And he just got here and still has two weeks to think about it, so let him breathe!”

Nina rolls her eyes, but she leaves the table and heads towards the kitchen. Jax shakes his head with a smile and stands up.

“She’s right, you know?”

“Sir?”

“I’ll pay for everything, you and Orar are getting the best prosthetics she can come up with, and that’s nonnegotiable.”

He joins the others in the kitchen before Kad’la can say anything. The smell of food immediately fills his nose and Jax can’t help but groan at how good it smells. He’s had nothing but the bland, spiceless food they could make on Kamino except on a few rare occasions and the smell of Nash’s cooking reminds him just how much he missed Mandalorian food. 

He grabs the plates Nina hands him and, together, they quickly set the table while Nash and Jenal bring the meal with them. Kad’la’s eyes widen at the sight of the large plates full of food they put on the table. Jax recognizes the spicy nerf ribs and mashed potatoes he spent the first months on Kamino dreaming about and is suddenly hit with a thought.

“How spicy are the ribs?” he asks Nash with a frown.

“Mild, why? Afraid you can’t stand a little bit of heat anymore?”

“I’m more worried about Kad’la,” Jax says. “They only feed them rations on Kamino, so I’m not sure--”

“ _Rations?_ ” Nash interrupts him, horrified. “That’s all they’ve been feeding you?”

Kad’la winces. “Well, it’s-- a bit boring, but it gets the job done. They’re designed to give us the perfect amount of calories we require to function, it’s not like I’ve been missing on any essential nutrients,” he explains tentatively.

“That’s horrendous,” Nina says and promptly grabs Kad’la’s plate to fill it with enough ribs and mashed potatoes to feed two grown men.

“I, uh--” he starts, but closes his mouth when she puts his plate down in front of him with a pointed look.

“Start with this,” Jax suggests gently, pointing at the mashed potatoes.

Kad’la studies the plate with a frown. He’s definitely embarrassed by all the eyes focused on him, but he finally grabs his fork to get some of his food and lift it to his mouth. Jax can’t help but smile at the way his whole face lights up when he finally tastes the food. He still remembers the clone’s reaction to the rations he gave him that first day on the _Cuyan_ and he’s pretty sure the taste of real food is currently blowing his mind. 

“How…?” is the first thing Kad’la asks, his voice hoarse. 

Nash looks like he’s torn between preening at the obvious compliment and screaming with rage. 

“Eat your fill, son,” he grumbles.

Kad’la digs in without hesitation while they all fill their plates. He becomes hesitant again when his interest shifts to the ribs, but he grabs one and takes a tentative bite. 

“ _Haar’chak,_ ” he immediately swears, startling everyone at the table. 

He flushes with embarrassment, so Jax gently pats his arm. “You don’t have to eat it.”

“No, it’s-- it’s good. I just-- this is spicy, right?” he asks.

Jax smiles. He’s used to the clones’ curiosity and hunger to learn as much as possible about _everything_ by now. They know everything there is to know about warfare and the history of the Galactic Republic, but they have no idea how to describe smells most people would consider common and the same applies to food. 

“Yeah, this is considered pretty mild for us Mando’ade, but I bet it must feel pretty hot for you, uh?”

“ _Hot_ , yeah, that’s the word!” he exclaims, satisfied, before taking another, larger bite.

“A man after my own heart,” Nina says with a sharp grin, making Kad’la flush even brighter and Jax roll his eyes.

The Ael’ters do most of the conversation during dinner. Jax is happy to simply listen to them as he empties his plate almost as quickly as Kad’la next to him. The clone looks like he is about to lapse into a food coma by the end of dinner, but he looks happy and content. Jax feels the same, so he can’t really judge him. At least, Kad’la might actually get a good night of sleep this time. 

“I’ll take you to your room,” Nash tells Kad’la once they’re done clearing the table. 

“Thanks, sir. For the meal and-- well, everything.”

“Don’t thank me, son, I’m just doing the right thing. And it’s Nash for you.”

“Yes, s-- _Nash._ ”

The old man pats the clone’s shoulder with a smile.

“Jax’ika, you can have Myran’s room. You still remember where it is, right?” Nash asks, arching a brow at him.

Jax feels his face grow hot as the question paired with the old man’s smug expression suddenly reminds him of that one time Nash walked in on him and Myran in the middle of a heated make-out session. Stars, he can still hear Myran screaming at his father to _knock on the kriffin’ door next time_. It’s been eight years and Jax is definitely not a fifteen years old teenager anymore, but the embarrassment is still here. 

“You’re the worst,” Jax mutters and ignores Nina’s snickering behind him.

Kad’la casts him a confused glance, but Nash quickly ushers him out of the living room and Jax sighs.

“You missed us,” Nina says with a soft smile. 

He turns around to look at the twi’lek. “I didn’t miss your right hook,” he says, pointing at his bruised cheek. 

“You deserved it though,” she says and gets closer so she can press a kiss to his cheek.

“Goodnight, Jax’ika.”

“You too,” he says before making his way towards Myran’s room.

It hasn’t changed much since the last time Jax was here. Myran has obviously taken down a few posters and it’s definitely cleaner and tidier than it used to be, but the place still feels very much like Myran. He wasn’t surprised to find out that the Zeltron had decided to follow in his older brother’s footsteps to become a bounty hunter. Jax remembers the last time they had talked about it, promising each other to work together and become the best bounty hunter duo in the galaxy. They’d been young and in love and Jax probably broke his heart by disappearing without a word. 

The young man sighs and starts shedding his armor, piling each piece neatly on the rack by the door. Jax stretches with a groan and freezes when something catches his attention. His breath gets caught in his throat as he takes a step towards the desk. He immediately recognizes the small trinket shaped like a mythosaur he made with Nash’s help and offered Myran years ago. It looks a bit wonky and Nina had made fun of him, but Myran’s smile had been worth it.

Kriff, the Zeltron will be so mad at him. 

They had barely started dating when Jango had called but they had been best friends for years before that and he still remembers how mad he had been at his father for taking the contract on Kamino. 

He has no doubt Myran will make him pay for disappearing the way he did, so there is no use in dwelling on the past now. Jax grabs a set of clean sheets from the closet to make the bed. Once satisfied, he takes his clothes off and slips under the covers. 

Kad’la and Orar are safe. 

He can’t say the same thing about the other clones or Boba, but he’ll take care of that too.

One day at a time. 

* * *

**MANDO'A**

ad'ika = son  
aliit = clan/family  
di'kut = idiot  
Su'cuy ba'vodu = Hi, uncle  
demagolke = demagolka (sg) someone who commits atrocties, a real-life monster, a war criminal  
haar'chak = damn it!

**Author's Note:**

> The fic should be 3 chapters long and the second one is already written so you can expect an update soon!


End file.
